


I Can Move Mountains

by Zhie



Series: Bunniverse [47]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 18:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11538165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: An auto-generator of summaries came up with: Part the first included the number of times in the past that Celegorm had been upset at Fingon for no reason other than simply being around.And that's pretty accurate.





	I Can Move Mountains

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to 'Loyalty'

"Do you ever sit still?"

Fingon opened his eyes. He was sitting on the couch in the foyer at his uncle's house. The primary reason for his visit was to deliver a message from his grandfather to his aunt. 

Well, that was his grandfather's primary reason for sending him. His primary reason for acquiescing to his grandfather's request was to come and see Maedhros. Maedhros, however, was still in the forge, and would be for another hour. Instead of going out to let him know that he was unexpectedly there (and had been asked to stay for dinner by Aunt Nerdanel, and had been told he should really just stay the night by Uncle Fëanor, who gave him a wink that he really felt his uncle should not be giving him, but really, it was appreciated compared to his own parents' reaction to the situation), he took a seat in the foyer so that he would be the first person that Maedhros would see when he dragged himself through the door after a long, tiring day dealing with the junior apprentices and their mistakes.

That, of course, was if Maedhros did not see Celegorm first.

Celegorm returned from a ride only a few minutes after Fingon's arrival. He was, in fact, the only cousin in the house. Fëanor and Nerdanel were making supper together. At one time there had been servants to do that, but Fëanor no longer trusted outsiders within the house. In fact, Fingon wondered sometimes why it was that he was allowed to roam the estate without a question. It was no secret that the older Fingon got, the more he disagreed with his uncle. There had been a few times at the dinner table when Fingon thought he might end up thrown out before the end of the meal (and had his own parents ever been told of how he argued with his uncle in his house, no matter how bad the blood between them, he was fairly certain it would not be a favorable outcome). Even rarer had been the times when he managed to argue Fëanor into a corner, to the point of concession. “Your cousin can move mountains with that tongue of his,” remarked Fëanor with little amusement the second time it happened, and Fingon never forgot the comment. 

"He is actually afraid of you," Maedhros revealed one day. “He has very little fear of anything, but he once let it slip when he was deep in drink, and when I questioned later, he did not deny it. He knows his own brothers would never outwardly challenge him, but he said he sees the same fire in you that is in him.”

Maglor nodded in agreement. “The only people that give him pause are you, and Melkor.”

Fingon thought that was nonsense.

“They say, ‘tis wise to keep one’s friends close, and one’s potential enemies manifested in the son of their most despised brother even closer,” added Curufin, but he was hushed by Maedhros and sent away.

Maedhros refused to speak of any of it again after that.

\---

"You! You listening to me?" Celegorm walked right in front of Fingon and snapped his fingers a few times. "You hear me?"

Fingon nodded, but then he bobbed his head as he listened to the music that played for him alone. It was something he had heard at the market earlier and he thought it would be a perfect performance piece. He was getting stuck on the verses but the chorus was something he had already worked out. This meant he was tapping his foot, which was making his leg move, and the rest of his body as well. In fact, he was basically dancing while he was sitting on the couch, and now as he saw how much it annoyed Celegorm, he made sure that he was exaggerating the movement.

"Stop it. Why are you even here?"

Fingon worked a couple of shrugs into his sit-dance routine and played the chorus in his head again. This made Celgorm huff, so Fingon did the only thing he could think of that would make Celegorm even more upset.

He started to sing with it.

Instead of actually singing though he had to just move his lips to the song. He was not entirely sure of the words yet, having only heard the song once at the market as he was walking through. It hardly mattered - it had the desired effect.

"What is wrong with you, Findekáno? Seriously. What are you even doing?" Celegorm picked up a cushion and walked past the entry back to the kitchen to make sure his parents were in conversation about the potatoes before he walked over and flung the cushion at his cousin. Fingon ducked and kept on moving. "Stop it. Really."

This just encouraged Fingon more and he added some arm movements and gestures.  
"You know what? Fuck you. Fuck! You!" Celegorm put his hands on his hips. "What, you came over here to see Russandol? I am going to make your night miserable. Miserable!" he repeated.

"Why would you do that?"

It was not Fingon who spoke. Celegorm looked over his shoulder immediately. "He started it," he blurted out as his father gave him a scrutinizing look.

"Right. Findekáno?"

Fingon reduced his movements to barely a sway. "Yes, sir?"

"Is there a reason Turcafinwë is screaming at you?"

Fingon began to devise a monologue in his head. Part the first included the number of times in the past that Celegorm had been upset at Fingon for no reason other than simply being around. Fingon guessed that the root of it was that he was taking away Celegorm's big brother, or at least the big brother he wanted to spend time with. Initially, this had not been at all intentional. Fingon himself had a bit of a longing for an older sibling, and Maedhros seemed to slide into the position of everyone's big brother figure.

Of course, that only lasted for so long. Eventually, there were other reasons for Fingon to spend time with Maedhros, and reasons not to invite cousins and brothers with them. 

There was also Aredhel. Fingon was still not sure he wanted to entertain thoughts of the thoughts that Celegorm entertained about his sister.

Instead, Fingon gave a shrug of his shoulders and answered, "No, sir. I was only dancing, sir."

"Oh?"

"He was rolling around on the couch like a rabid squirrel!" accused Celegorm. "He was making all of these weird movements," he said as he flailed his own arms in a mockery of what Fingon was doing.

"I see." Fëanor turned to Celegorm. "Kitchen. Now."

"But--"

"Kitchen," repeated Fëanor, and there was no further debate.

Fëanor waited until Celegorm was out of the room before he leaned in the doorway much like Celegorm had initially done. It was easy to see what each son picked up from their father, and with Celegorm, his shadow often matched his father’s. "So. Dancing on the couch."

"Yes, sir."

Fëanor gave a single nod. "I see." He wiped his finger across the top of a shelf on the wall, and rubbed his fingers together to rid himself of the imaginary dust he found there. "As you know, I have brothers, Findekáno."

It was rare that anyone, including his uncle, used his full name for a prolonged period of time, so it was clear that Fingon crossed a line. However, sometimes words tumbled forth before he could remove the sarcasm. "I was vaguely aware of this fact, uncle."

"Right. Younger brothers," added Fëanor.

Fingon gave a single nod much like Fëanor had, and willed himself to stop there. The music still played in his head, but softer now. He was wise enough not to let it compete with his uncle’s voice.

"I know what older brothers do to torment their younger brothers."

Fingon raised a brow as if this was the first he was hearing about sibling rivalry. At the same time, seven different scenarios involving Turgon and clever attempts to talk his way out of trouble with his parents populated his mind.

"I would appreciate it if you honed your skills on your own brother and left your younger cousins to your lover."

The use of the word sobered Fingon immediately. The music stopped, and all focus shifted to Maedhros. He was lucky - damned lucky - that his uncle gave him as much freedom as he did. Here he was able to sit beside Maedhros, hold his hand, linger in his embrace even in front of other members of the family, and share a room when he stayed the night. At his own home, his father frowned if he so much as shook Maedhros’ hand. Fingon sat up straight and cast his gaze downward, not in defiance or anger, but in humbled submission. “Yes, sir,” he agreed. 

"It would be a terrible shame if you were not able to spend time with your companion due to an increased workload. For him, of course. I assume that dancing allows you much free time, and it would be a shame if you were forced to find other, less pleasant avenues to fill the hours without him.”

"Yes, sir."

Fëanor stepped closer so that he was looming over Fingon. With nowhere to go, Fingon looked down at this lap. He moved his hands so that he was sitting on them to keep them from making any sort of movement that could be construed as rude. "I understand that you and Turcafinwë have some sort of conflict of personality. When you were both younger, I let it go. Do you know what I appreciate most about you, Findekáno?"

Fingon looked up so as not to be disrespectful. He wondered why Maedhros was not in yet. "No, sir."

“For your years, you are very well spoken and you act older than you are. Most of the time. Then something like this happens, and I remember that you are still, for all purposes, the child, and I am the adult." Fëanor looked up as the door opened. Maedhros and Caranthir walked in, and behind them, Ambarussa, speaking to each other in the secret language they had developed. "Good evening. We have a guest with us for supper."

Fingon licked his lips, looked up, and smiled away the awkwardness. 

He was certain from the look he was getting that it was not fooling Maedhros. There would be a long discussion later.

Maedhros did not let on. "Cousin. What an unexpected surprise."

"That was my thought," remarked Fëanor. "A very unexpected surprise. Morifinwë, come help your mother and I with the meal," he directed as the Ambarussa escaped up the stairway. 

Once the room cleared, Maedhros crossed the room and sat down beside Fingon. “Long day?” asked Fingon as he shifted off of his hands so that he could wrap his arms around his lover.

“Yes - no, wait.” Maedhros caught Fingon’s wrists and held him back. “Let me shower first. I stink.”

“It does not bother me,” he quickly responded, and he playfully tried to escape Maedhros’ grip.

Maedhros held firm. “It bothers me,” he said sternly, and let go only after Fingon relaxed.

“You probably have enough time before supper,” Fingon said encouragingly. “If you go now, I--”

“Fin, please. I have had a long day and one of the apprentices set his sleeve on fire, and I just want to rest before I eat, take a bath, and sleep.” He punctuated the last word, and Fingon drew back from him. “Nice to see you, though,” he added before he leaned back and closed his eyes.

Fingon sighed as silently as he could. There was laughter coming from the kitchen, and he considered leaving Maedhros alone for a while, but it had been several months since he had seen him, and with the way his uncle was, there was never any knowing if they would all suddenly be traveling for unspecified destinations. Fingon tried to be as quiet as he could so as not to disturb Maedhros, and the music returned that he had listened to earlier. He closed his eyes as well, reminiscing upon the notes once more.

“Do you ever sit still?!”

Fingon flinched and stilled his movements immediately. “Sorry.” He realized too late that he had been working through the routine again.

“Fin, just go.” Maedhros turned his head and opened his eyes. “Turcafinwë is upset, I am tired, and I need to be up early as I have important things to do come the morrow.”

“I should apologize to Turcafinwë,” said Fingon as he stood up. 

“Yes, you should,” scolded Maedhros. “He caught me outside before I came in and explained everything to me. He has every right to expect that when he enters his own home he will not be antagonized by guests.”

“He exaggerates - let me exp--”

“I do not need to hear it. There is no reason for you to come in here and upset him every time you visit.”

Fingon looked down at Maedhros, but could not find the words to say. From the kitchen, Nerdanel called out that supper was ready.

“Just go, Fin.” Maedhros stood up as well. “We can talk some other time.” He left the room, and Fingon, after collecting himself, let himself out the front door.


End file.
